"
"My throat's blistered," said Clover feebly; "I'm going to stand on my
head and gargle with salve until my throat's healed."
"I shall never shine on the team again," said Mitchell. "I shall hire out
for bleacher work. He who has successfully conversed with Aunt Mary need
not fear to attack a Wagner Opera single-handed."
Jack did not say anything. His heart was athirst for Mrs. Rosscott.
She was back in her own library the next night, and he rushed thither as
soon as his first day's labor was over. She was prettier and her eyes were
sweeter and brighter than ever as she rose to meet him and held out--first
one hand, and then both. He took the one hand and then the two and the
longing that possessed him was so overwhelming that only his acute
consideration for all she was to him kept him from taking more yet.
"And the week's over," she said, when she had dragged her fingers out of
his and gone and nestled down upon the divan, among the pillows that
rivaled each other in their attempts to get closer to her, "the week's all
over and our aunt is gone."
"Yes," he said, rolling his favorite chair up near to her seat, "all is
over and well over."
She smiled and he smiled too.
"She must have enjoyed it," she said thoughtfully.
"Enjoyed it!" said Jack. "She won't like Paradise in comparison."
"And you've been a good boy," said Mrs. Rosscott, regarding him merrily.
"You've played your part well."
He rose to his feet and put his hand to his temple.
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